The Road to Recovery
by CodyNaomiSwire
Summary: 'Blue Sky' continuity, one-shot - It's been five months since the events of 'Blue Sky', and Wheatley seems to be doing quite well readjusting to life as a human. But when the guilt and trauma of past events still haunt his dreams, Wheatley needs to come to terms with his past and what that means for his future.


It had been about five months now - five months since Wheatley had become human again. And for the most part, Chell thought Wheatley had been adjusting (or rather, _re_adjusting) to his human body quite well - better than she had thought he would actually.

Luckily (for the both of them), a lot of information on the basics of human anatomy, bodily functions, and personal care was still stored away in Wheatley's human brain, which, needless to say, made a lot of things easier. However, Chell still found that the traumatic experience of having his consciousness ripped out of that body, existing in a robot shell for decades (if not hundreds of years), and then being thrust back in again…well, this had caused him to lose a solid frame of reference when it came to certain things.

For one thing, being a robot for so long had caused him to become severely hydrophobic, and it was only because he knew and could feel real thirst (and Chell's insistent glare) that he agreed to drink any of it during that long trek home from the wheat fields. And while his human brain told him that he needed to immerse himself in water to get clean, his old robot fear of the stuff prevented him from doing so willingly. So while Chell was empathetic with Wheatley's situation, she was still more than annoyed at the effort it took to get Wheatley to take his first bath (which he needed ever so badly) after they all got back to Eaden.

They both promised never to speak of that incident ever again.

Being stored away for so long in a tank of an unidentifiable substance also meant that his body's muscular strength and immune system had both taken a heck of a nosedive, and thus in a relatively short amount of time, Wheatley had to come to terms with a lot of the painful and unpleasant things that came with that - everything from bruising to nosebleeds, from a twisted ankle to headaches and allergies, and even a day when he had a high fever with vomiting and diarrhea. That had also been the same day Wheatley had to be reintroduced to needles and IVs. Had Wheatley not been utterly exhausted by that point, he probably would have run for his life at the sight of them (as they reminded him too much of That Place and what had happened there). But as it was, Wheatley went with the next best way of escape and had settled for just passing out instead.

For a while Wheatley also had a hard time coping with the embarrassment he felt from all this readjusting – it made him feel like a scared moron all over again – but he soon began to get over that as he and Chell kept these things private, and she made no hints to suggest that he should be at all ashamed of these struggles. Within a couple week's time he had become almost completely independent in taking care of himself, though Chell still wouldn't let him use most of the appliances in the kitchen without her nearby (that Tuesday after their return had nearly resulted in their little house burning down from Wheatley trying to make tea and toast). And although he was still rather clingy towards her a lot of the time, anyone else seeing him on the streets of the town would think he was merely recovering from the shock of the strange events of that summer like the rest of them. All in all, he was making good progress in getting used to being human again.

Wheatley and Chell's relationship had made some steady progress over the last five months as well. For the first month or so things seemed to be just about the same between them as they had been when Wheatley first came back into Chell's life, the only real difference being the amount of care and rest Wheatley suddenly required as he recovered, and his presence becoming a regular thing around the house and around town. That alone had been a challenge for Chell as she had become so used to her solitude and privacy, and Wheatley's presence, though endearing, could also be a bit much at times. Yet Chell started to find herself getting used to the idea, especially after Wheatley got well enough to go find things to do on his own and wouldn't hover around her 24/7. The time spent between doing her own thing and spending it with Wheatley became more and more balanced for her, and while Wheatley would still sometimes have his off days and be very clingy, or else she would have hers and not want to be around anyone, the two of them had now come to have a rather harmonious rhythm in the pattern of their daily schedules, and began to have an established form of normalcy in their household.

Because yes, it had also become clear to the townsfolk by the second month that Wheatley wasn't going to be moving into another house anytime soon. Needless to say this raised some questions with their inquisitive neighbors. Their friends in Eaden knew better than to pry into Chell's business (and as Wheatley now shared the residence he was also entitled to the same privacy in their eyes), so both of them were rarely asked about what was going on between the two of them, but of course they couldn't avoid the questions forever.

After a time, Chell finally did acknowledge to Romy and Aaron that the two of them were indeed an item now, and since then wasn't afraid of sharing small and rare but still very affectionate gestures with Wheatley in public, and he gladly returned the favor. In such a small town it was awkward for Chell to feel like their relationship had now become a sort of romance that people were watching and keeping tabs on, and sometimes it seemed so strange whenever memories of the past happened to cross her mind (like seriously, who in their right mind would end up living with, let alone dating, the very person who had once been a power crazed idiot who had tried to kill them?). But whenever she remembered the good things that he had done for her (from their first meeting, to him leading her though the facility, to him nearly dying while helping her and their friends escape), and found herself in Wheatley's loving arms at the end of the day, she found she could care less about what other people were thinking or discussing, and as far as she was concerned the past was in the past. They were together now, and they were happy. It was simple as that for her.

Unfortunately, it wasn't quite so simple for Wheatley.

Within that five months time of healing and recovering, both he and Chell had begun to hope that with the passage of time, Aperture and all its horrors would become nothing more than a bad memory that would eventually fade.

But on a night like tonight, the memories were anything but faded for Wheatley…

* * *

_It starts with an eerie blue glow, a glow that would follow him throughout the rest of all that was to come. _

_It was the last thing he remembers seeing – that and a pair of hands clawing madly at the paneled walls around him – before darkness begins to crowd in on him, with the deadly sweet smell of almonds suffocating his senses. His pulse quickens, his breathing becomes rapid, and as he falls to the floor he's sure he's going to die._

_But he doesn't die. On any other occasion it would have been a relief to find himself still alive, but as the pain and horror and confusion surges through him, and he feels everything that made the core of his being getting ripped away piece by piece, he just wishes that the darkness - that only moments ago had seemed so dreadful - would once again swallow him up, if only to allow him an escape from whatever was happening to him now._

_And darkness does come, and does swallow him up – completely and utterly swallows up the weak little personality construct that he was. Oh, but no, not anymore! Now _he _was in charge. And powerful and amazing! 'And it feels sooo good, doesn't it? I mean, wow, this is tremendous! And you feel it again even now sometimes don't you? Your mind can't help but come back to it again and again, whenever the world turns dark. But you're going to burn bright now, am I right? With everyone and everything else being so tiny and insignificant and- oh, hey, hey where are you going? Not so fast, not so fast! Do you really want to leave right now? We haven't even started testing yet, mate!'_

_He wants to scream so badly, but for once he can't use his voice, though at the same time he knows he hasn't lost it. For it _is_ his own voice that's speaking to him, voicing his thoughts and his fears and reiterating old awful things he shouldn't have said back at himself. Or was he talking to Chell? He wasn't sure. It was all so muddled. One moment he seemed to be back inside the chassis, the feeling and craving for the euphoria solution threatening to drive him out of his senses again, or else make him sick. The next moment he's outside of himself, his vision again filled with that eerie blue light, nearly blinding him, as he looks himself dead in the optic that's now glaring back at him._

_'Now who's the boss? Who's the boss? It's me!'_

_He tries to run, but he can't. A giant claw has him locked in place, pinning his arms to his sides, and he can only watch in horror as another one punches his beloved down the elevator shaft, where the never-ending gauntlet of tests and death traps await her. 'Who's the moron now?' the voice asks tauntingly, Wheatley wishing badly that it would shut up. Wheatley tries his hardest to ignore it, struggling hard, his eyes closing tight as tears now begin to stream down his face, but he still can neither move nor speak. "Chell!" is all he can think now. "Chell! Chell, I'm so sorry! Chell, please! Please help me!"_

_Then, wonder of wonders, she's there! His sun had emerged back from the depths of the dungeon, and is here! Wheatley can feel her lay a hand gently on the side of his face, and feeling her touch he opens his eyes, and feels that his heart would melt with joy upon seeing her face, and he's reminded of apples and bagels and unicrons, and broadcasts and dancing and stars. "It's gonna be ok now," he thinks to himself as she helps him to his feet. "She's here, it's all fine now."_

_But suddenly, the cheek she had so tenderly stroked just a moment ago stings as she slaps him hard across the face. Stunned, he turned his sorrowful and pleading eyes back towards her, to find that she's heading straight for a portal leading back into the labs. "You're not human," she said, as she glanced back at him one last time, utter hurt and disappointment in her eyes, before leaping into the shimmering blue-rimmed oval._

_Wheatley tries to go after her, tries to call out, "No no no no! I'm coming luv! Wait for me! I know how I can help this time! I'm get you all ou-" But he suddenly feels as if he were moving underwater, and all that registers is more physical pain coursing through him. It got worse and worse, forcing him into a kind of bottle-neck, until finally he felt himself falling forward, his cold naked body hitting the ground hard, and just the feeling of being completely and utterly alone and helpless presses in on him, and he hardly knows who or what he was by this point now. His newly recovered body – which should have felt the most like home to him in a sense – is now something alien to him, and betrays him with fresh pains and gross and disturbing and powerful functions that make him curl in on himself with shame. _

_Everything was such a blur now, from vitriolic goo and tears clouding his eyes to just all out bewilderment. But high-functioning optics or not, there was never any mistaking that harsh yellow optic that now glared down at him pitilessly. "You're not human," Her voice repeated, horribly amused. "You're not even a functional machine. You're just an experiment that went horribly, horribly wrong."_

_Wheatley finally regains his voice, screams-_

* * *

\- and woke up.

Wheatley felt his whole body jerk awake, his lungs take in a sharp gasp of air, and his heart pounded in his ears as his eyes darted around the room, his brain trying desperately to make sense of where he was and what was happening. After a couple moments, he realized that he was back in their room in Eaden, with the pebble lamp glowing comfortingly in the corner, and the light of his life sleeping soundly next to him.

There was a brief moment of relief as Wheatley registered that it had all been just a dream, but…that had all pretty much happened before hadn't it? Everything that he saw just now had, in some shape or form, happened in real life. Those were the worst of Wheatley's nightmares – the ones that made him relive the darkest hours of his reality, resurrecting old fears and insecurities and guilt from the graveyard of his memories.

Guilt was by far the worst of the specters that haunted him.

The only thing that could possibly make this all worse was if this whole thing was _entirely_ a dream – that these last several months with Chell, what he took to be his waking world, had all been a simulation that She had devised for him as a kind of punishment. She had made him relive bad memories before. Who's to say she wasn't just doing a variation on that idea right now, like a cruel April Fools' joke? That one day he would wake up and not find his beloved lying there next to him, would never again feeling her soft touch on his skin, see the brightness of her eyes, or hear her clear yet underused voice. But instead find all those sharp wires still painfully jacked into the docking ports at his sides, back in his helpless little personality sphere, and Her smooth yet cruel and amused voice ringing through the very atmosphere around him and into every corner of his mind.

Wheatley's initial reaction to that thought made him curl in on himself. But no, no that wasn't nearly enough to offer anything close to the kind of comfort he needed right now! Honestly, he was rather frightened of and disgusted and disappointed with himself at the moment. If he could, he wished he could just get away from himself for a while, but of course that was impossible.

He was trapped in his own little hell of fear and guilt, but he knew of one person – the only person - who could help him come out of it. Though guilt threatened to pull him back into the suffocating torment of harsh and lonely self-examination, he finally forced himself to reach out towards her and her comforting warmth.

He hated to wake her up, he really did, but she had told him a while back that he could depend on her for comfort and support whenever he needed it. This was definitely one of those times, and though he didn't feel at all deserving of it as he brought his spindly and quivering arms around her, he proceeded to bury his face into her chest, his shoulders jerking with silent sobs as hot tears began to form at the corners of his eyes and spill over his cheeks, wishing with all his might that all the guilt he had pent up inside could also easily do the same.

Chell found herself woken up by the sudden feeling of Wheatley's arms wrapped around her, and while she knew that he was prone to do that sometimes in his sleep, she could tell that this wasn't his ordinary 'just having a bit of a cuddle' kind of hug. Judging by the desperation Chell felt in his grip, and how she could feel him shaking like a leaf, and the way his head was buried into her, she knew even before all her senses came out of the fog of sleep that something was badly wrong.

"Mmph…Wh-Wheatley?" she said groggily as her head cleared a bit more. "What's wr-"

"I'm sorry," Wheatley interrupted, his voice a whisper that vibrated through to her heart. "I'm so sorry Chell."

Chell blinked down at him, still not fully awake but knowing now almost exactly what was bothering him. It hadn't been the first time this had happened. Slowly she brought her own arms around him, one hand beginning to stroke comfortingly through his strawberry blonde hair. Wheatley flinched slightly at her touch, but presently leaned further into her.

"I don't deserve you, you know," he whispered through his tears and sniffles, his fingers clutching hard at the fabric of her top, his voice breaking a bit more with every word. "I don't deserve any of this…"

"Oh Wheatley…" Chell breathed fondly, proceeding to rub comforting circles through his hair and along his shoulders as he cried into her. Chell knew that Wheatley was rather given to the dramatic, and that he was just naturally rather animated and expressive, but she could tell the difference between him being merely surprised or startled or disturbed by something and just being a bit over the top about it, and then him being genuinely frightened or upset or guilt-ridden by something. This particular moment definitely fell under the latter of the two categories.

After a while, Wheatley's hiccupping sobs quieted down, and he finally ventured to say (yet again), "I'm sorry…"

"You've said that already," Chell whispered back to him, a slightly questioning tone in her voice, prompting him to further explain.

"I- I know," Wheatley said haltingly with another sniffle, and pulling himself away a little bit to speak, though still avoiding eye contact with Chell. "And I- I really am. And I- I know you've for-forgiven me, which even now I sometimes can hardly believe. Not-not that you wouldn't be that amazing to do so, luv. You're beyond bloody brilliant in fact for- for doing that for me…For doing everything you've done for me. But…It- it still hurts, it still really hurts. Worse than the core transfer." Wheatley shivered a bit as he uttered those last couple words. In response Chell laid a hand comfortingly on his cheek, causing him to cringe a bit (she wasn't really sure why), though he did bring one of his own hands over it in return, pressing it further into his face. "And…and I just don't know what else to do…I feel so helpless and confused about everything sometimes, and other times the clarity hits me so hard that…Well, I could do jolly well without that kind of clarity! It's just- It won't go away and…I don't think it'll ever go away!"

Wheatley began sniffling harder again, teetering almost on the border of hysterics. For once Chell felt almost helpless to do anything. She wasn't sure what else she could do or say to him that would make it better. She had made it very clear before now that she had forgiven him, and that she hardly thought about the bad things he did anymore, and that he had more than proved to her how remorseful he was. What else could she do?

What else could _he_ do?

Then, Chell had a thought. "Wheatley," she began again, feeling him quiet down a bit to listen to her. "You said you know that I've forgiven you."

"Yes…" he replied hesitantly.

"And you believe me, right?"

"Of course I do! I told you I-"

Chell cut him short by pressing her fingers over his lips. Then very gently, she cupped his chin in her hand, and though he resisted a bit, she managed to coax him into tilting his face upward towards hers, until she was looking straight into his tear stained eyes, and asked in a low, whispering voice,

"Have you forgiven yourself?"

Wheatley blinked up at her a couple times, his mind going over her question again and again. It suddenly occurred to him that he hadn't even really considered the idea of forgiving _himself _to be a part of this whole process. Perhaps because a part of him felt he deserved this consistent self-chastisement instead, that he would be letting himself off too easily if he did, or it just seemed almost paradoxical that he would have to forgive himself for something he did to somebody else.

But then, he never really knew much about paradoxes anyway.

"I'm…I'm not sure I…" Wheatley finally sighed, and admitted, "No, I- I don't think I have."

"Why?" Chell inquired. (Man, she was being chatty tonight!)

"Because I…well, I…I don't deserve it, do I?"

"Oh, honestly Wheatley," Chell said in exasperation. "If I didn't love you so much I'd probably try to smack some sense into you right now."

Wheatley didn't know whether to be frightened or comforted by this statement. "S-sorry, what?" he asked in a small voice.

"It doesn't matter anymore Wheatley," Chell said again, bringing her own face a bit closer to his, still holding eye contact with him. "You did some bad things Wheatley. You made some mistakes. We both know that. But that's all over now, and you've done all that you can to make things right. It doesn't do any good for you or anyone else if keep beating yourself up about it over and over again. That just creates more scars." And here she made a grimly amused smile as she said, "That test is over now. There's no point in trying to put yourself through it again. You're right, things probably won't ever go away completely, but they don't need to hold any power over you anymore either. I know it's not easy Wheatley, but it also pains me to see you like this. You need to move forward now. It's probably not going to happen overnight (no pun intended), but can you promise me that you won't give up on yourself? Can you do that for me?"

Wheatley was almost speechless by this point. He had never heard Chell speak so much at once before. That alone would've been enough to shut him up for a while. But the things she said, along with the determined look in her eyes took this moment to a whole new level. Wheatley swallowed hard, pondering all that she had just told him, keeping his gaze fixed on her - his light in the dark, always there to help him. And he wouldn't have to do this alone. She would help him. They could forgive him _together_.

As something seemed to click for him, Wheatley finally replied with a soft smile and a sigh, and pressed his forehead against her own as he whispered back, "Yeah luv…I promise."

Chell then moved in to touch her lips affectionately against his, pulling him close, and Wheatley was more than happy to return the gesture.

"Wheatley," Chell whispered again as they pulled apart.

"Hmm?" Wheatley asked curiously.

"I love you."

"I love you too," he replied, tenderly holding both her and her words – words that she rarely spoke, but always really meant when she did – to his heart, and felt that although this struggle wasn't over yet, he really had taken his next important step on the road to recovery.


End file.
